


Hot-Blooded (Do More Than Dance)

by Mytay



Series: Adjust Orbit and Velocity [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Keith is a badass, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Pidge is So Done With Both of Them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 03:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytay/pseuds/Mytay
Summary: “I think I made a mistake,” Keith said in a low, pained voice. “How about I go back to pining? It was bearable. Kind of.”“As if,” Pidge scoffed. “The only thing worse than Lance being all lovey-dovey, is you being sad and self-flagellating all over the Castle.”Keith walked along side her, still constantly shifting his gaze, tilting his head at every click and groan the ship made around them. “Yeah. Maybe not as easy as I thought.”“And you’re stupidly happy too,” Pidge said, unable to hold back a grin as she looked up at him. “Plus, I don’t think you can go back to not being able to make-out with Lance every time you beat him in the training arena.”— Objects in Motion, Chapter 6In which, on Day 277 of Voltron, Pidge wants to watch a pair of badass warriors have an epic training match — and she gets that, but also a little more than she was hoping to see. She considers turning on the sprinklers to stop the madness. Again.





	Hot-Blooded (Do More Than Dance)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [**Hot-Blooded**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reDDyuEbkLM), by Foreigner.
> 
> Hm, oops? This one-shot was supposed to be written before _In Space, No One Can Hear You Cringe_ , but somehow, it completely slipped my mind, despite being clear in my notes. *sigh* 
> 
> My thanks to lovely **LavenderWife** for requesting a glimpse at _“The Mental Scarring Of Pidge, Green Paladin And Matchmaker For Science”_ — and two anonymous and fabulously kind folks on Tumblr also expressed an interest in this, along with suggesting that Lance have a turn at suffering because the object of his affection is being deliberately awesome as a means of seduction ;)
> 
> This one is short and to the point, just like Keith! … Sorry, sorry, bad joke, couldn’t resist ;D

******

_Castle of Lions_

_Date: 277 Days of Voltron_

_Training Deck Observation Room, Late Afternoon_

 

Pidge had been sitting in the observation room when Lance and Keith rushed onto the training deck, shoving at each other, Lance skidding into the middle with both arms raised up, his hands clutching pieces of his blue armour. Pidge couldn’t hear what he was saying — the arena cameras and audio were off. Her feet were propped up on the console as she lazily played with the gladiator codes, inputting her own training protocols for later.

 

She had planned to get in some practice, since their last mission had involved _way_ more acrobatics than she was used to, but maybe watching Lance and Keith would help her out instead?

 

The Red and Blue Paladins had become an unparalled team out in the field, and so they had issued the rest of Voltron an open invitation either to watch them train or to join in. _“We kick ass because we practice at kicking ass,” Lance said proudly. “Feel to come and watch and have your minds blown.”_

 

Pidge decided to take them up on said invitation, leaning back in her chair and watching Keith roll his eyes; a smile played about his lips while Lance crowed about something or other as he finished slapping on the rest of his armour. Keith put on his helmet, and then he gestured to various parts of the room, probably outlining their training program for the day.

 

She was comfy and lethargic, so observing seemed best. (And if she witnessed more material for her thesis, then, all the better, right? So really, it was _more productive_ for her not train right now, since she was also so tired to begin with … Which had _nothing_ to do with her staying up all night augmenting Rover III’s hacking programs.)

 

Pidge flicked the audio system on, listening to the tail end of Keith explaining, “ … _and I’ll set it to randomize the barricades. You ready?_ ”

 

Lance nodded, his exuberance having morphed into the determined stare of Voltron’s sharpshooter. “ _Let’s do this._ ” He jammed his helmet on and unleashed his bayard rifle.

 

Pidge grinned, sitting up straighter and preparing herself for what was sure to be a great show.

 

******

 

Lance stood against one end of the training arena, Keith a few feet to his left. Their goal was to hold out until “reinforcements” arrived (meaning the program would end, but that would be at an unspecified time), or to make it to the sanctuary at the other end of the arena, behind a barricade that served as a goal line.

 

The difficulty setting of this particular program had been set to  _holy hell why would you even do this to yourself,_ and it was ratcheted up by Keith’s suggestion that the barricades be _randomized_ so their cover was likely to disappear at any given moment.

 

Clearly, Keith had _infected_ him with his masochistic streak because Lance was _hyped up and ready to have a blast at this, pun totally intended._

“Three seconds to start. You good?” Keith asked, his grin sharp. And hot, did Lance mention that not only was this fun, but it was also _hot_ to watch Keith in his element?

 

“To kick your ass? Always.” Lance puffed out his chest and winked.

 

Keith's grin morphed into a smirk. Three seconds passed, and twenty-five gladiator ’bots dropped into the room. _To start._

The barricade Lance was perched behind disappeared, forcing him to roll away, sprinting towards another newly raised wall. He fired twice from cover, and as he pressed back against the wall, he watched Keith do a few acrobatic tricks of his own — he slid between two ‘bots, slicing through them cleanly, and then tossed his sword _into his other hand_ to stab the face of another.

 

Lance had a vague notion that Keith was ambidextrous, but somehow, it just clicked that it was … a _thing._ A really, really attractive thing. However, he didn’t have time to let that realization sink in, as five ‘bots were closing on his location, and he felt a rumble, indicating that his wall was about to disappear.

 

He fired several times with rifle, and just as the wall was lowering, he stepped out from behind it, twirling around a gladiator who was _right there,_ and firing up into one who was diving down onto him. He somersaulted right into a barricade that was rising next to him, managing to duck down as a shot whizzed by his head. He pulled off his helmet, getting a loud, “ _What the hell are you doing?”_ shouted his way by Keith.

 

Lance tossed his sweaty hair and winked again at his boyfriend. Keith growled out a few impressive swear words as Lance surged up and fired into the face of two approaching gladiators.

 

The helmet helped with aiming, but something about using his natural eyes, no enhancements or aim-assist programs … It felt _better._ He couldn’t get away with this out in the field, but here, in this training room … Not to mention, it was easier to flirt with the helmet off.

 

Which totally wasn’t the main reason why he was doing this.

 

A second later, a helmet hit his ankles, and Lance looked up to see Keith racing towards an advancing group of five gladiators. He slid between the legs of one, slicing them off at the ankle, and then flipped to his feet, his bayard beaming between his two hands and _seriously, what the hell._ Lance knew he had to move, had to do something other than sit there with his mouth open, but for whatever reason, today of all days, Keith was _getting to him._

The Red Paladin executed a series of intenseacrobatic moves, and while Lance was the more flexible of the two, Keith had speed and sharpness that Lance could not match … Was he imagining it, or was Keith even _more_ fast and brutal right now?

 

A minute later, Keith had reached the finish line, and the program was over. Lance found himself staring at the ceiling suddenly.

 

He sat up, having been knocked on his back by a final stray bolt, since the barricade he’d been hiding behind had slid down while he’d been … distracted.

 

Keith walked over, _sauntered even,_ with his bayard pointed down, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat, the _jerk_. He stopped right at Lance’s splayed out feet, staring down at him with that _smirk_ again. “Maybe _don’t_ waste time with the flirting? You aren’t good enough to do that _and_ win. Not yet, anyway.”

 

Lance swallowed, trying to find his words, and when Keith tilted his head, some of that pitch-dark hair falling into glinting purple-grey eyes … Lance leapt to a standing position, finger jabbing into Keith’s chestplate. “Holy crap. You were doing that on purpose.”

 

The Red Paladin blinked at him. “Doing … what on purpose?”

 

 _Oh._ Lance faltered as Keith stared him, confused. So he didn’t know what he was doing. Great. That made it _worse._

 

“Never mind — best two out of three!” Lance insisted, sliding his helmet across the floor and out of the way with his foot. “I win, I get another chance to kick your ass.”

 

“I win, and we get to do sprints for the next hour,” Keith said firmly. “You’re fast, but you could be faster.”

 

“You are the worst.” Lance groaned. “But fine. Deal.”

 

“I’m re-setting the program — and I’m including more reinforcements for the enemy,” Keith said, a hint of challenge in his tone.

 

Lance walked back over to the starting point. “I can take it.”

 

Keith said nothing, just raised both his eyebrows, and put his helmet away with Lance’s. They both stood, a few feet apart, waiting for the first wave of gladiator robots.

 

Thirty emerged from the floor, and only two barricades went up for cover. Lance dashed towards the one closest to him, while Keith … didn’t even bother. He threw himself _right into the middle of all the bots._

Lance jerked up, firing somewhat haphazardly, trying to keep Keith from getting hit because _holy crap, neither of them were wearing helmets, whose bright idea was that?!_ His bolts found their targets, as always, but he wasn’t quite hitting them as accurately as he typically did. Mostly because if he thought Keith was being a show-off _before …_

The fluid movements were stunning — one strike morphing into the next, no pause, no stuttering. Within those freakishly fast, flowing motions, Keith whipped out his _Blade of Marmora_ dagger. He was duel wielding with ease, and _changing hands mid-swipe,_ his bayard in the air as he struck with the dagger, and then catching the bayard with his other hand and …

 

Lance stood, uselessly, as Keith arched his back to avoid a hit, using the motion to take out several bots, right at the knees.

 

He blinked himself back to reality when a couple of shots whizzed by _his_ head, but at that point, Keith had demolished most of the gladiators in a improvised dance that … was twelve kinds of hot. Possibly fifteen kinds.

 

The reinforcements dropped in. Lance managed to take out several bots, sliding into Keith’s side, making sure to watch his back, as promised.

 

They fought as one person; Lance read Keith’s movements, predicting where he would shift his weight, where his blades would strike, and whatever opening Keith left, Lance would fill with his blaster fire. He twisted around Keith’s lethal spins, their backs pressed in close, and there were times when Keith slid sinuously along Lance’s limbs, almost like …

 

Was the universe issuing comeuppance for all those dance lessons in which Keith had admitted to dying in Lance’s presence? Probably, yes. Particularly since Lance had made sure to abuse this power he had over Keith while dancing. Often. And the nickname war, that was another deliciously fun bit of torment.

 

Wait, nobody was firing at him right now, which meant …

 

“Wow, you _almost_ put up a fight,” Keith said, and he was finally _somewhat_ out of breath — standing on the finish line, having pulled away from Lance just long enough to end the program. He brushed back his sweaty bangs, his bayard and dagger both tucked away. He grinned, blatantly satisfied over his win.

 

Lance was moving before he realized it. Those black locks clinging to Keith’s skin, skin that was glowing, and those eyes, dark and focused, and that mouth, a smile that was all too sweet even though he was gloating …

 

“Hey, Lance, what are—” The question couldn’t be asked, not when Lance was tackling him to the floor, and capturing those lips in a kiss that brooked no argument.

 

No, right now Lance had a _need_ for a Red Paladin warrior, unmatched in battle, and hot as sin. And look, right here, in his arms, pinned to the floor — _exactly_ what the doctor ordered.

 

Keith didn’t even bother to fight — his arms were around Lance’s shoulders, one of his legs coming up to tug him in impossibly closer.

 

******

 

Pidge slammed the mute button so she could spare her ears those _sounds,_ and jumped up from her chair, away from the viewing window. She rolled her eyes skyward, imploring the universe to _spare her._ Much like the last time Lance and Keith had been shameless (in the recently reconstructed gym area), Pidge considered setting off the sprinklers …

 

But to be fair, they _were_ in an enclosed space with no known witnesses; while they had issued an open invitation for anyone and everyone to observe or join them, Pidge hadn’t bothered to make her presence known … So, no, she would leave them be. And do her best to scrub this instance from her mind …

 

Before the making-out though, it had been _very_ impressive to see how they worked together — it would probably be worthwhile to watch them again, though she would make sure to leave _as soon as the training ended,_ to avoid any further trauma.

 

She might drop a hint or two to Allura or Shiro that sparring times often meant _make-out_ times. Pidge would not be surprised if most, if not all of their matches, ended like _this._

 

Making a face to herself (while also giving herself yet another mental high-five for getting those two morons to see the light), she walked out of the observation deck and made a beeline for her lab. She had plenty of things to distract her. Maybe she would program one of her Rover units with a built in fire extinguisher — it could follow Lance and Keith around so Pidge didn’t have to manually activate sprinklers each time they scarred her.

 

******

 

Lance probably could’ve kissed his boyfriend into oblivion for the next several hours, and been happy to miss out on dinner, on sleep … But he also felt really gross, with the flightsuit sticking to him, the armour pinching certain parts as they tried to find more comfortable positions. Moreover, he could not actually _touch_ like he wanted, since they did still have all that damn armour on.

 

He was particularly annoyed at his gloves; they weren’t permitting him to feel the thick texture of Keith’s hair, the softness of his ears, the hum of his pulse in his neck …

 

Keith broke away to breathe, and to smile smugly up at Lance, his gloved ( _damn it_ ) hands squeezing the back of his neck. “Hm, maybe you can convince me _not_ to follow through with the sprints …” Keith raised an eyebrow, his covered fingers pressing, massaging …

 

“Oh my god,” Lance gasped out, sitting up suddenly. “Holy shit, I wasn’t imagining …”

 

Keith crossed his arms behind his head, staring up at Lance with that (attractively, _freaking damn it_ ) arched eyebrow, and innocent ( _hah, no!_ ) expression.

 

Lance rolled off him, since straddling his boyfriend was _not_ conducive to rational thinking. He pointed at Keith accusingly. “You were doing _that_ on purpose, you fiend!”

 

“Doing what on purpose?” Keith asked, sitting up as well. He yanked off his gloves to run a hand through his hair, licking his well-kissed lips.

 

Lance swore he could hear his brain screeching to a halt, but he pushed past it, forced it to keep up. “ _All of it._ But mostly that thing, with the hands, and the switching your sword around and …” Lance waved pointlessly, and then reached down to grab his bayard; he tossed it from one hand to the other, fumbling a bit. “The thing where you’re a freaky fast ambidextrous ninja.”

 

Keith actually had the nerve to _blush_ , though he didn’t deny it. No, he just smiled a little, his expression fond. “Oh, is that it? Huh. I guess I noticed you sort of … zone out when I’m fighting sometimes, so I just … Put a little extra into it. Didn’t know it was something that specific, though. Being ambidextrous gets to you?”

 

Lance gaped. _Oh._ “Hold on. You’re … you weren’t doing that specific thing on purpose, but you were trying to —”

 

“Trying? I was clearly succeeding,” Keith countered — and there was the smirk. _Damn,_ but did Lance want to wipe that gloating look off his face. Just, you know, with _his face._ Going back to making-out like they had been, just a minute ago … He was totally losing the thread of this conversation.

 

Mostly the thread that told him Keith had grown so bold, and had learned, way, _way_ too well.

 

“Look here, _sweetums_.” Lance stood up, his hands on his hips, bayard dangling from a couple of fingers. “Distracting you with my wiles — that’s my thing.”

 

“You are annoyingly good at it,” Keith agreed easily, still splayed out on the floor. “But it’s come to my attention that I’m not entirely without my own distracting capabilities.”

 

Oh no. Lance was _doomed._

Keith smiled, his cheeks flushed for reasons beyond exertion, and it was so sweet, _adorable even, yet still hot,_ and Lance was more than doomed, he was _doomed on arrival, forever._

Keith rolled his eyes skyward as he spoke, “I’ve noticed you get _distracted_ watching me in the gym. When I’m piloting, you get this tone, when I do that thing with the barrel roll —”

 

“Okay, that’s because you _almost die_ every time, dude, so if you could just _not_ with that one move —”

 

“And, well, Pidge did mention that fifty two point seven percent of all PDA is my fault, so I gotta do something to even things up. To push your buttons. Like in the gym, when I …”

 

Lance’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god, you _siren._ You complete and utter jerk. I thought that was a _one-time thing._ I thought you were kidding around to get under Pidge’s skin!”

 

“If I also get the benefit of kicking your ass while sparring, I mean — bonus.” Keith grinned now, his eyes falling back to Lance’s, his cheeks still red, but he seemed not to care, and that was amazing.

 

Keith straightened abruptly, and Lance instinctively responded to the sudden seriousness by paying close attention.

 

“You really need to be more careful.” Keith unsheathed his bayard again. “A couple of ‘bots had the drop on you.”

 

“You had my back,” Lance pointed out. “We’re a team, remember?”

 

“But if I’m downed from some reason …”

 

Lance held out a hand, and Keith took it, allowing himself to be pulled up. “If you’re ever downed, then I’ll be there, in a flash. Because we have each other’s backs, dude. I’m watching out for you the same way you’re keeping an eye on me.”

 

Keith looked in his eyes, a familiar softness overtaking his expression. Lance … didn’t think he had much longer to catch up to Keith, so to speak, but he didn’t think he could vocalize these thoughts, not yet. He opened his mouth to say _something,_ something sweet and caring, because Keith deserved all the sweetness that the universe had denied him as a kid …

 

But Keith was tugging Lance down into another kiss, this one less heated, gentler. Lance sunk into it gratefully, hopefully able to communicate all the feelings he had simmering beneath the surface — the powerful, overwhelming sensations that he couldn’t put words to right now …

 

“I think …” Keith once again was the first to pull away, and as he did, he started stripping off pieces of his armour.

 

Lance watched, his eyes growing wider and wider, until Keith was down to his flightsuit. He stretched languidly, leaving Lance choking on air at this … confident, _seductive_ Red Paladin …

 

And then Keith said, “We still need to do some sprints. You really gotta get that speed up. If you’re still up to it, we can have a nice, relaxing date on the observation deck.”

 

Keith didn’t deserve any sweetness, nope, nor kindness, because Keith was clearly the devil in disguise, wiles and deception and all. He finished off his show by tugging his hair into a ponytail.

 

“When did you figure _that out!”_ Lance cried desperately, jabbing a finger towards Keith’s messy hair.

 

Keith blinked once, very slowly, and then smiled, also very slowly. “Hm, I didn’t know about that one either …”

 

Lance smacked himself in the face. “You know what, I’m going to shut my mouth, this is just … This is _exploitative mistreatment, that’s what this,_ and I, I won’t — let’s get to sprinting, as that would be a far more noble death than …”

 

Keith _laughed at him,_ and it was such a joyful, giddy sound, that Lance couldn’t help but grin — he chuckled at himself, at their antics, and he found himself oddly proud at how _bold_ Keith had become. Shameless and willing to _be_ shameless with Lance.

 

Lance couldn’t believe how damn lucky he was to witness this — to be part of it.

 

Keith nudged him, and Lance took the hint, stripping off the armour, and he didn’t bother flexing his muscles or pulling anything like what Keith had just a moment ago. No, he was rather enjoying being on the receiving end of this “mistreatment,” so to speak. Lance felt his grin become distinctly silly and smitten. He had no regrets about this — none whatsoever, not with Keith looking at him with an answering, ridiculously besotted smile.

 

Keith pulled him in once more, another easy, quick kiss pressed to Lance’s lips. Lance ducked in to nuzzle Keith’s nose, laughing when Keith scrunched it up in response. One more kiss, and Keith pulled away for the last time. “C’mon. The faster you run, the faster we can steal some of Hunk’s leftovers and have a picnic under the stars.”

 

“Oh no, you are not becoming the romantic one in this relationship, too,” Lance complained. “You can’t take that away from me!”

 

“Race you for it!” Keith said, taking off without warning. “First to run _fifty laps!”_

_“You ass, you’re cheating!”_ But Lance was already laughing, wheezing as he tried to chase after Keith.

 

No, he wouldn’t change a damn thing, not one. Even the way he collapsed on the floor at the end of his fiftieth lap, finishing just behind Keith. Nor would he change the stitch in his side or the burning his lungs.

 

Not when it got him Keith, tending to him carefully with a bottle of water and a towel, helping to his room, waiting patiently as Lance took way too long to shower and primp for their date, and then treating him to a delicious bowl of Hunk’s specially hand-made pasta, complete with meatballs and Almost-Like-Tomato sauce.

 

Lance especially wouldn't change anything when it got him Keith willing to play The Lady to his Tramp, failing miserably when their teeth smacked together, and then failing happily as they dropped the spaghetti and kissed over the cooling food.

 

******

 

 _“Wait,_ how _do you know about that?” Keith demanded, his gaze now zeroing in on her. “I thought you’d stopped spying on us!”_

_“First off, I was never_ spying _,_ _I was_ observing for the sake of a scientific endeavour _,_ _” Pidge corrected, somewhat offended. “And secondly, you always say we’re welcome to join or watch whenever you guys train. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson — I leave right before your program ends. Seeing you and Lance play tonsil hockey is not a vital or desired part of my battle tactics learning.”_

 

_Keith didn’t blush quite as much anymore, but he was definitely going a little pink now._

 

_— Objects in Motion, Chapter 6_

******

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I didn’t even have this one on my radar, since the space cowboys were taking over my life, but I guess I needed to write some fluff to balance out all the angst I’m inflicting upon these two in my other ‘verse.
> 
> This story was especially quick, super silly and sappy, so I hope despite all that, anyone who reads this had fun with it! (Apologies for any mistakes, and for being overly-saccharine!) Many thanks to all of you who have read this series (or anything of mine) and continue to read! I am so grateful!
> 
> (Oh, when Keith talks about Lance being distracted while Keith works out in the gym, and when Pidge refers to Lance and Keith being “shameless” in said gym, that’s actually based on another silly one-shot I wrote [on Tumblr here](http://thisgirlhastales.tumblr.com/post/158877155888/keith-works-out-lance-ogles-happily-pidge-tries). If you wanna follow me there for more shenanigans like that, feel free ;D)
> 
> Again, my thanks to anyone who decides to read this! *hugs*


End file.
